


A Warning and a Couple of Bullets

by Not_the_sun



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Blood, Gen, Injury, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 07:17:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11179758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_the_sun/pseuds/Not_the_sun
Summary: A telling of episode 10's scene between Cassidy and Sheriff Root. As a hurt/comfort fan, I really enjoyed that scene and wanted to write about it.I write often but never post, so constructive criticism is appreciated.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~





	A Warning and a Couple of Bullets

 

It had been a long night, as predicted. With the sheriff keeping Cassidy prisoner, forcing him to dance across the cell or take a bullet. 

The sheriff of Annville wasn't wrong, Proinsias Cassidy _was_ one tough _sonofabitch,_ if Cassidy could say so himself. But despite the vampire's best efforts to hide his pain, the sheriff had also seen that bullets still hurt a _hell of a lot._ They didn't hurt a vamp any less than a human.

When the first one hit, it was like a steel punch to the chest. The air erupted in blood and gunpowder as he went down.

It _sucked._

Cassidy inwardly cursed himself for his carelessness of thinking he could scare the lawman—and outwardly cursed the pain. He'd only just healed from his triumphant ( _stupid)_ way that he'd outed himself to Jesse by stepping into the sun, and that had been two days ago.

 _I am a right idjit._  

It would still take him another two to get back to what he considered _normal,_ and yet he thought he could bare his teeth and scare the man with a loaded gun? 

Cassidy huffed out distressed breaths as he spasm-ed on the floor, gingerly touching the wound and coming back with sticky fingers. In his haze of pain, he almost didn't hear what the sheriff was saying. The smell of blood was in the air again.

Although immediately suspicious, Cassidy couldn't help but raise a quizzical eyebrow as the sheriff leaned against the bars and offered him a paper cup filled with blood. From a bloody _thermos_ of all things.

Taking a deep breath, the vampire plunged his hand into his own chest, through thin layers of cloth, ripping the still smoking metal out and flinging it to the floor. With surprised strength he pushed himself to his feet and snatched the cup from the sheriff's hands, gulping the drink in one go.

He wasn't... _posing_ as he stood in front of the lawman. Goodness no. But he couldn't help making a bit of a show by swiping a hand across the now healed wound and wiping the red on his pants while he waited for a reaction.

There were all sorts. Some cursed him with the bible on their lips, some thought it was a trick, and some were horrified beyond belief. Some let out a barrage of stereotypical questions same as Tulip had, although Cassidy would swear that she'd done it with the most grace and acceptance he'd ever seen in his 119 years.

And his best mate... well, Jesse had come around.

Cass stood, eyes locked on the sheriff, silently waiting to find what sort of a man he was.

But the vampiric wonder hadn't deterred the sheriff in the slightest. The portly man's eyes bulged out a bit more, obviously surprised that his suspicions had been correct—dead on, even—but Sheriff Root simply wiped the sweat from his head and paused.

"Where's my boy?" His hand was steady, the revolver aimed again in Cassidy's direction.

Cass shook his head... and his leg exploded in a burst of pain. "FUCK!" he cried in surprise and crumbled to the floor.

And on and on it went. Just as Cass had time to catch a breath, to find the strength to dig another bullet out of his body with slippery, dirty fingers, the sheriff offered him another paper cup of blood. Cass lost count of the times he tasted it, either from the cups or welled up his throat from internal damage.

It was a silly game, it was a dangerous game, but Cass kept right on playing. He felt a small amount of pity for the man who'd been through so much with this fuck of a town and his fuck up of a son. The bloke could use a stress reliever for sure.

And every moment he was shooting at him, he wasn't bothering Jesse now was he?

Cassidy kept right on going until the last drop from that blessed thermos hit his tongue. He tried nice again, but being the cold-heart-ed shite storm that he was, his nice talk had turned into something sinister and he got six bullets for his trouble.

One bullet had _sucked_ , and had knocked Cass flat on his skinny ass. 

He had been relaxed, smoking a cigarette and catching his breath. Without the adrenaline of a fight, six bullets had him momentarily blinded in a haze of heat and agony. He barely felt the floor as he collided with it and rolled to get away.

"Jus prove my point..." He was honestly surprised to find his voice. "Like I said....nobody's perfect" 

Cassidy writhed on the concrete, groaning and huffing out wet breaths. The kind of bloody coughs that dying blokes made before they kicked the bucket---there must be a bullet in his lungs this time.

He wanted to close his eyes but wouldn't dare--the sheriff had started to open the door to his cell with a loud clang.

Cassidy tensed, watching with rapt attention.

If the sheriff was coming to kick him in the head, or was about to add a few rounds to Cassidy's newly healed face, Cassidy was dizzily certain that he would have no choice but to fight.

He tried not to panic. He didn't want to kill this man, but if the sheriff got close enough then his instinct would take over, and he'd take a chunk out of him and drain him dry and _boy_ would that make Jesse unhappy. _Jesse would-_

He'd already killed one bloke this week, and Cassidy didn't want to cause anymore problems for his best mate—Padre certainly had enough on his holy plate today.

_God's comin' to Annville._

Cassidy's bloody fingers clawed at the air, shaking as spasms wracked his thin frame. He pressed a fist to his lips, choking on the blood in his throat. Eyes locked on the sheriff, he moved to get away, succeeding only in flinching like a wounded animal. _Please don't hurt me or I'm going to-_

The blow never came.

"You can leave now" the gruff but tired voice ordered. Cassidy let out a long suffering sigh as his arm crashed to the floor. Game over.

"Good...I gotta be someplace..."

 

 


End file.
